Boots
by Queen-Cocaine
Summary: From when she first spotted the boots they became an obsession, a need, a desire. They consumed her and intigrated themselves into her daily life. The boots played a vital role in her life and development and she wasn't about to give them up for anything


_**Disclaimer: I do not own Tortall or the characters in it. **_

* * *

She never paid much attention to pretty things.

It came from living in near poverty for the first twelve years of her life followed by a brief one year stint being mad in the wild and finally relocating and living on an ostler's salary. She never found need for beautiful objects to be admired rather than used. She would choose breeches over a gown every time. What was the point of having a dress if it was going to become streaked with dung the next time she mucked out the stables?

No, she never paid attention to pretty things.

oo00OO00oo

She saw the boots.

They sung to her. Standing in a display in front of the cobbler's workshop, they made her stop in her tracks in the midst of the bustling city. They were not boots, they were art; an unconcealed flaunt of the cobbler's skill and talent. They looked like they went up to her knees, smooth silky blue leather the same shade as her eyes. A gleaming silver steel-cap protected the toe, though she couldn't imagine how _anyone_ could scuff these amazing boots. The heel was an eyebrow-raising shade of scarlet. The most remarkable feature of the boots was the animals. Painted so clearly in painstakingly miniscule detail, they turned the boots from mere pretty to extraordinary.

A Badger rose up from the heel of the right boot, one paw resting midway on the back of the shin. Its tiny painted eyes showed the intelligence its kind was renowned for while its minute claws seemed to dig into the leather without leaving any marks.A lizard peeked enquiringly along the length of the foot of the other boot, the black and white patterned skin shaded meticulously perfect. Its forked tongue poked out of taste the air. A black robin, perched on the folded rim of the right boot, cheeped downwards at the larger badger. A golden eagle, wings spread out to catch updrafts, flew across the rim of the left boot. Its golden eyes searched for its prey. The boot was an art work, a marvel of man-made nature-showing splendour.

And she wanted it more than anything.

oo00OO00oo

She pulled his hand through the crowds.

Ignoring the cries of vendors and merchants, turning this way and that to find the cobbler's house. The boot's came in view and she sighed with happiness. A few moments later her companion extracted himself from the grasps of a peddler with a polite refusal and stood beside her. He could see that she wanted the boots. Perhaps for her birthday? He suggested lightly. She glared, that was too far away, she wanted her boots now.

And they _were _her boots.

oo00OO00oo

She decided that he would be no help.

If she wanted her boots then she would have to get them herself. She tried on the boots. They were a perfect fit. It strengthened her resolve that the boots were meant for her and her alone. How much? She asked the cobbler. His price was too high for her now. She felt distressed and frantically tried to find another solution. Perhaps she could save up money every week? The cobbler agreed to set the boots aside for her. She agreed to set aside part of her pay.

The boots were removed from the window.

oo00OO00oo

She talked of the boots.

Maybe they were made for her; they were the same colour as her eyes after all. Plus the animals, they were a direct connection. He sighed and ran his fingers through her unruly curls before braiding it. Of course the boots were meant for her, he reassured her, they were a faultless depiction. Did she want to stay the night?

She accepted happily and mentioned the badger's resemblance to the god as she fell asleep in his arms.

oo00OO00oo

She visited often, ignoring her companion's teasing.

The cobbler acted resigned as he got out the boots for her once again. But she knew that he was secretly pleased that someone loved his work so much. The boots ached for her and she stroked their soft leather and whispered that they would be together soon. The cobbler enquired to her companion on whether she'd always been this batty.

Her companion replied that the boots were having a negative effect on her mental health and he was seriously considering separating the two.

oo00OO00oo

Her job and responsibilities beckoned and she gave one last disheartened farewell to the boots before she rode on to Galla to pick out mounts for the new crop of riders.

He commented that she didn't seem as sad to leave him.

She called him a dolt, stuck her tongue in his mouth and reassured him that he would always rate high in her heart – just after the boots.

oo00OO00oo

She returned to the cobblers, the new mounts groomed and settled, to greet her boots.

She expected them to welcome her with their cheerful blue colouring and animal images. She found a bare shelf. The cobbler explained that he had an offer while she was in Galla. The boots had a new owner. She responded icily that they had a deal. The cobbler shrugged, money was money and he had to make a living.

She left the cobblers shop with an over turned worktable and a threat to call the magistrate.

oo00OO00oo

She cried over the boots.

He consoled her and hugged her against his chest. Perhaps it was not meant to be? He hinted cautiously. She shoved him away angrily, had he ever lost something dear to him right from under his nose?

He replied solemnly that he had; a pair of boots had stolen away his magelet.

oo00OO00oo

She woke from a nightmare.

The boots were on the feet of a voluptuous blonde court lady and she was scuffing them along the ground as she walked. The animals were destroyed and the beautiful cloudy-blue leather ruined. He laughed hard when she woke him and told him of it.

Her decidedly insensitive lover spent the rest of the night on the couch.

oo00OO00oo

He refused to go further, didn't want to take her innocence.

She replied that her innocence was already lost. He paused, considered and consented. Afterwards she explained to her irate lover that she actually meant that her innocence was lost when her boots were stolen from her. Therefore she didn't really lie. But, she added, the deed was done and he had to keep on doing it to her or she'd mention to a certain Lady Knight about his habit of deflowering his students and refusing to touch them again. He replied that she was a decidedly evil manipulative girl and deserved to have her boots taken. She retorted that the boots were a metaphor of their relationship and he seemed to want it fail. He countered that she didn't know what a metaphor was. She prodded him in the chest and responded that it was his fault as the teacher for failing to teach her properly.

And that her boots were amazing enough to be considered a metaphor even if they weren't actually one.

oo00OO00oo

She felt ill.

Perhaps the boots were taking a harder toll on her than she thought she explained between bouts in the privy. Her lover held back her hair and replied that he did not think that the boots would send any negative thoughts towards her from wherever they were. They would have appreciated her constant visit and wouldn't bode any ill against her.

She responded by throwing up on his own boots.

oo00OO00oo

She needed a hobby.

Something to take her mind off the boots. A short visit to the lioness and her hobby was decided; knitting. And she knew exactly what she was going to make.

She set out towards town again, for a skein of cloudy-blue wool.

oo00OO00oo

She decided that knitting was much harder than it looked.

She returned to town again and knocked on the door. The cobbler almost slammed it shut again when he saw her but she apologised for her behaviour last time and explained her dilemma. The cobbler agreed to help after a hefty pause. He invited her inside on the condition that she did not near his worktable as it was rather heavy and a pain to turn up the right way again. She apologised again. Casually she enquired as to the owner of the boots. The cobbler cast a sharp look at her before answering that it was a man looking for something for his lover and that he would say no more on the subject. Several other failed attempts at cajoling information from him and she was exited from the shop by the magistrate with the upturned worktable behind her. She was escorted straight to her lover who took one look at the magistrate and the cobbler and pulled her inside. She could not go on like this, he explained firmly. She replied that she had a perfectly good reason for doing so. Boots? He asked sarcastically. She responded that since he was being such a dolt she wouldn't tell him the reason.

She then added that knitting was possibly the easier option.

oo00OO00oo

Her birthday was hardly a joyful celebration in her opinion.

She missed her boots. She thought mournfully that if she had allowed her lover to buy her the boots for her birthday then she would have them by now. She resolved to get her lover to pay for all future transactions. She smiled politely at the mounds of colourful parcels. She unwrapped each of them dully; ear-bobs, a book on animal diagnostics, a necklace, a new ball gown. She mentally compared each of them to her boots though she tried hard not to. She thanked everyone pleasantly with a small smile on her face. Her lover rolled his eyes and passed his gift next. Mechanically she undid the ribbon and disposed of it in the pile on her left side. Then she carefully unwrapped the paper so it didn't tear and put the sheet on another pile on her right side. Her lover commented dully that she might do it _before_ her next birthday. She affectionately called him a dolt and looked down at the plain box on her lap.

She placed her fingers under the edge and lifted. A tear fell down her cheek as the box lid fell to the ground. Her boots lay in the box. Carefully she moved a finger over the soft leather and down the crimson heel. More tears spilt. Her lover commented that if he had known that it would have made her sad then he wouldn't have gotten them for her. He was cut off by her arms flinging round him and her lips pressing against him, whispering that he was the best lover in the whole of the world and she loved him – even more than her boots. He replied with a certain smugness that he knew she did all along. He removed her old brown and carefully slid on her boots. She turned her feet this way and that and allowing the admiring murmurs of her friends. She then turned to her lover and shyly held out her present for him. He took it wordlessly; this was her birthday after all. Carefully he removed the ribbon and with deliberate and mocking slowness dropped it in the pile by her feet. She kicked him softly with the toe of her boot and told him to stop being a dolt. He laughed and ripped open the paper to reveal a box, smaller than the one he had given her.

He looked at it curiously before opening it and removing a cloudy-blue, slightly misshapen, knitted…_bootie_.

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_**It's a rather 'hinty' fic in that it doesn't really have straight dialogue and shows rather than tells. It was Daine and Numair by the way if you didn't get it. The idea of Daine's boots has been with me for a bit, more of Daine having boots like that then this particular plot. The plot came to me when I was bored out of my wits of work as so many of my plots do. It has subtle hints about the D/N relationship and the whole baby thing. And yes, I do know that Daine had her baby at twenty-eight and had been living with Numair before that. I suppose mine's in the earlier stages of their relationship. At any rate I enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoy reading it!**_

_**Love Queen Cocaine**_

_**XXX**_


End file.
